


The Touch of Silk

by Zilchtastic



Category: Gackt (Musician) - Fandom, Hyde (Musician) - Fandom, Jrock
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss is barely a brush of lips. Gackt steals it one evening as he's leaving Hyde's hotel room, hand already on the door as he's about to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Touch of Silk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic-- at least three years old, in fact.
> 
> Set in Taiwan during the filming of _Moon Child_.

Their first kiss is barely a brush of lips. Gackt steals it one evening as he's leaving Hyde's hotel room, hand already on the door as he's about to go.

Hyde jerks back, eyes gone wide. "What the--" His hand goes up in an automatic gesture to wipe at his mouth, but halfway there it's as if he forgets. He just stands there, frozen, staring at Gackt.

Gackt stares back. The moment stretches, tightens.

Hyde licks his lips. The frozen moment snaps.

"I'll see you in the morning," Gackt says, voice low. His tone makes the words sound more intimate than they should be.

The door closes behind him. It is a full two minutes before Hyde can make himself move, before he can summon the wit to flick off the lights and pull off his clothes and slide between the scratchy sheets of his bed.

He jerks off, trying his hardest to think of Megumi, and then falls into a fitful sleep. For some reason, he dreams of the softness of silk.

***

The next day, it's as if it never happened. Gackt says nothing, acts no different, though with Gackt it's hard to tell, since he always seems just a little strange. Hyde, on the other hand, is edgy; he keeps missing things the director explains to him, and Leehom even asks at one point if he's feeling all right. He twitches, startled. "I'm, it's fine. I'm just a bit tired," he says in English, and Leehom nods like he believes him and walks away.

Gackt is sitting in a folding chair, eyes intent on the script draped over his lap, a half-smoked cigarette in one hand and his full lips pursed in thought. After a moment he looks up, expression inscrutable. Hyde turns his head, too quickly.

Hyde tells himself he wasn't looking _at_ Gackt, really. He was just looking in a _direction_, and Gackt happened to be there.

That's all.

***

The second kiss occurs in this manner:

Hyde is just coming from the shower, a towel around his waist, and he nearly trips on Gackt's outstretched legs because the man is sitting on the end of his bed, even though Hyde is fairly sure he locked the door.

"What--" Hyde begins, but that's all he can get out before his feet turn him around, turn him back toward the bathroom where he can lock the door and lean against it until Gackt goes away.

A touch stops him, a warm hand freezes him in place, but he refuses to look back over his shoulder at the man he knows is now standing behind him.

Skin traces skin, a light touch, Gackt's finger gliding slowly down his spine, as if following the path of the water droplets that still bead and cling and slither down. The touch reaches the thin white towel, slung low on narrow hips, and stops. Hyde wonders if Gackt's next move will be to tear the towel away. He can't breathe past the heartbeat trapped in his throat. He wants to run, but his feet refuse to move, like in a dream.

The touch vanishes. Hyde opens his mouth, rallies in an attempt to tell Gackt to _go_, but then warm lips press butterfly-soft against his shoulder and all that comes out is "Ah--", clipped short, all breath and confusion.

Then that, too, ends, and it takes a few dazed moments for Hyde to realize that Gackt has moved away. By the time he turns around, the door is already closing and Gackt is gone.

The towel, he realizes, has fallen to the floor. He stares at it for a long moment, then kicks it into a corner and goes to find his clothes.

***

They go to an indoor/outdoor market, all heat and noise and cheap souvenirs and greasy food on sticks. Hyde has to stick close to Gackt just to avoid being trampled. Various security trails after them, nervous in such a pressing crowd but trying not to look it anyway.

Hyde tugs at his clothes. The shirt is loose, the buttons undone nearly halfway down his chest, but he still feels hot, closed in, choked. Maybe it's all the people, the too-bright lights, the wafting heat. The air smells like dust and unwashed people and burnt sugar and, distantly, Platinum Egoiste.

Gackt leans in close, murmuring something against his ear. Hyde can't quite hear it above the dull roar of the crowd. All he knows is that the feel of Gackt's breath makes him shudder. He nods anyway, as if he's heard, and pretends not to notice the ever-present cameraman clicking away, recording every moment, recording all his guilt.

He feels claustrophobic. He refuses to let it show.

***

The third time Gackt kisses him, Hyde thinks he is prepared.

They're smoking together on the hotel's rooftop, high above the traffic sounds and the ground-level smog and the dirty pavement, stained by years of pollution and neglect. Hyde is leaning on the cement wall that keeps idiots like him from tumbling to their deaths, a cigarette clutched loosely between two fingers. There's nothing of interest down below-- from here all he can see is an alley with a few dumpsters, and a rust-spotted delivery van-- but he keeps staring at it anyway, as if it will inspire him if he watches long enough.

It just makes him feel vaguely depressed. Maybe a little hungry.

When Gackt approaches, wordless, he knows what's coming. "Don't--" he starts to say, half-turning, but he's too late, and there's Gackt, pressed tight against his back, tight enough that Hyde's hips scrape not-quite-comfortably against the cement.

Gackt's arms are around him, in front of him, larger hands covering Hyde's more delicate ones, keeping them pressed to the wall. Hyde's cigarette goes plummeting; with no wind, it falls almost straight down. Hyde thinks he rather knows how it feels.

"Let me go, Gackt," he whispers, staring at the pavement far below.

"I can't," Gackt says, voice equally soft, and Hyde can only think _why, why,_ but he can't say the words.

Gackt's lips against his neck are soft at first, gentle, like a brush of silk. Then Hyde feels wetness, the flick of Gackt's tongue, heat that slides quickly down to pool in his stomach and lower. Then teeth, a quick sharp pain that makes Hyde gasp.

"Don't... don't leave a mark," he hears himself say. His voice sounds distant, like it's not his own, too high and breathy. Gackt chuckles, a buzz against his skin, and then he's kissing his way up to Hyde's jaw, past that to his cheek, past that to the edge of his mouth.

Hyde turns his head, but instead of turning away like he'd intended, he turns to face Gackt. "Stop, I don't want--"

Gackt kisses him, hard. His hands tighten on top of Hyde's. Hyde can feel the rough stone under his palms, imagines he can feel every grainy bump on its surface as it presses into his skin. He forgets it almost as soon as he thinks it, though, distracted by the wet heat of Gackt's tongue, the hard press of his mouth.

Hyde shudders, tears his mouth away, gasps "Please stop, please" in a high, frightened voice. His heart is pounding. He knows that if Gackt doesn't stop now, he won't ask him to again, and that knowledge scares him more than anything else.

Gackt just stands there, silent, still pressing Hyde into the wall with his body.

After a long, long time, Gackt sighs and drops a final kiss on the top of Hyde's head. "Alright," he says, sighing, and the word sounds tired and defeated, two things Hyde never would have thought of Gackt as being. Hyde's hands are suddenly free as Gackt backs away, and despite the pervasive sticky heat, Hyde feels strangely cold.

"Gackt--" he begins, turning around, wanting to say _something_, but Gackt just holds up a hand and shakes his head, smiling wearily.

"Next time I kiss you," he says, voice almost too quiet to hear, "you're going to give in."

Hyde nods, because it's true. "Please don't do it again," he says. His mouth feels dry, and the words come out too quick. He has to say them fast, lest his tongue betray him. One more moment, and he'd have asked Gackt to kiss him again.

"I won't," Gackt says, and something in his eyes looks too brittle, like spun glass just before it hits a marble floor.

***

That night, when Hyde jerks off in his empty bed, it isn't Megumi's face he imagines. When he finally falls asleep, he dreams of silk, torn and flapping fitfully in a harsh, cold wind.


End file.
